


One Wild Night

by DaNiCkStEr666



Category: Red Dwarf
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-04
Updated: 2012-11-04
Packaged: 2017-11-17 17:10:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/553918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaNiCkStEr666/pseuds/DaNiCkStEr666
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lister has one wild night.<br/>Set during series 5</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Wild Night

The JMC standard issue blanket had begun to itch. Lister turned in his bunk, his stained long johns pooling at his waist. He turned again as the sheets irritated the back of his neck. Sitting up, he punched his pillow several times out of frustration. The pillow relented, beaten into half of its original size, almost too small for Lister’s head. Sighing in frustration, Lister threw in the towel, by way of tossing his filthy blanket to the floor and called for the lights. 

Climbing down from his bunk, Lister cast an envious glance at the peaceful hologram lying asleep on the bunk beneath his own. He had half a mind to run a drill and wake the smegger, as the git had done many times to him. He classed the idea as a bad one. Irritating Rimmer was one thing, but to disturb the sleep of the crew was needlessly cruel, and perhaps harmful to his health, especially if the Cat got hold of him. 

Picking up his blanket, Lister wrapped the itchy material around his shoulders and staggered out of his sleeping quarters. He vaguely wondered what to do, caught between being too drowsy to do anything of interest, yet overtired to sleep. He snorted at that, overtired; he thought some goited gimboid had made that up to impress the ladies. An exaggeration to show herculean effort when there was none, a verbal penis extension if ever he heard one. 

Lister made his way to the drive room, avoiding looking at Kristine’s chair. He could sit in the vacated seat, cry rivers of tears and write a song from the soul, but too many nights had been spent in that way. Instead he chose Executive Officer Brown’s chair, his personal favourite, whether by coincidence, or the mind swap, he couldn’t be sure. 

He considered watching a movie, a good car case, with plenty of violence and a bit of totty to keep him keen. Holly appeared on screen before he could make a decision.

“Alright, Dave?” Holly asked in a monotone.

“I can’t sleep,” Lister complained, hanging his head. He felt childish and moronic, but he just wanted to sleep. “Give me something to do, Hol.” 

“Alright, Dave,” Holly replied, with a nod of confirmation. “Just picked up something in the cargo bay, might be nothing, still, worth a look if you’ve nothing better to do.” Lister nodded, and then realised the seriousness of Holly’s calm announcement. 

“What is it?” 

“Some kind of life form,” Holly replied, unhelpfully. Lister stood and dropped his blanket to the floor.

“Is it big?” He asked, pulling his spare pair of boots from under the console and pulling them on. 

“I don’t know, Dave, I haven’t been properly introduced.” Holly snapped while Lister rolled his eyes. 

“I’ll go check it out, if I’m not back in twenty minutes, wake the others and send them to the cargo bay, pronto.”

“Okay, Dave.” Lister cast an annoyed look in Holly’s direction, and then realised the futility of the act and left the drive room, shaking his head. 

The rush of adrenaline was a welcome reprieve from the harrowing tiredness that made him idle and irritable. His strange lack of fear made him nervous, for all he knew; this little adventure from boredom could be a suicide mission. He soldiered on, regardless, and armed himself with a bazookoid, as he climbed onto the lift and descended into the cargo bay. 

As the lift came to a halt, there was no doubt in Lister’s mind that there was something in the hold with him. His common sense, which sounded disturbingly like Rimmer, told him to retreat. He could tuck tail and run, he supposed, but his lack of fear made him reckless as he stepped off the lift. He powered up the bazookoid, as he headed into the maze of storage boxes, hopeful that his crewmates would not be picking up his severed remains in twenty minutes. 

After two turns and a long straight, Lister’s search was completed. He placed the bazookoid down onto a storage box and pulled a cigarette from his pocket and quickly lit it, pocketing his lighter. 

“So, it’s you,” he spat the words out, as though they had left a bad taste in his mouth. The intruder smiled, sardonically and leaned, invitingly against an empty fuel drum.

“Hello, my pretty,” the intruder drawled in a voice that sounded both familiar and alien. Lister made short work of the cigarette and dropped it to the floor, crushing it with the heel of his boot. He slowly lifted his eyes, taking in the figure before him. Scruffy black military boots, up to legs that went on forever, clad in fishnet stockings. Lister swallowed nervously, too long in space without a woman; of course the thought of stockings would drive him wild. The suspenders held them an inch above the knee, exposing firm milky white thighs. His visual stimulation was hampered by a pair of boxer shorts, which teased him by displaying a prominent bulge.

Unconsciously Lister stepped forward, mesmerised. His palms were sweaty and his throat was parched, and the way the dim light shone onto the crooked H made him feel dizzy. He took another step forward, whether he was trying to be intimidating or charming he was no longer sure. The intruder eyed him suspiciously, but remained in position leaning nonchalantly against the fuel drum. Lister stepped into his personal space, his breath ghosting over the intruder’s lips. 

“You smeg,” Lister choked, before leaning forward and closing the space between their lips. The intruder gasped, surprise by the demanding kiss, which allowed Lister to push his tongue into the intruder’s warm mouth. Bashfully, the intruder returned the kiss and then took hold of Lister’s flailing arms. He stepped forward, away from the drum, pressing his lithe scantily clad body against Lister, and then moved Lister’s hands to his buttocks. 

Lister moaned into the kiss, squeezing the firm posterior and pulling the enemy closer to his body. The friction between their bodies strung a chord in him that his guitar would be envious of. The intruder broke the kiss, and then leaned his head back chuckling, as Lister tried to kiss him again. 

“You…” Lister’s words died on his tongue, as the intruder affectionately nuzzled his neck. The scratch of stubble and the clinking of metal piercings reminded Lister that he was with the enemy. A dangerous, vile creature, and was that a tongue piercing? Lister shuddered and held on tightly to the low version of Rimmer. It was madness, this entity should not be here, or tangible. It had to be an illusion, maybe he was sick; he definitely thought so as he started to push Rimmer’s head down.

He stared expectantly down at the vile creature that had occupied his thoughts for weeks on end. Rimmer stared back, his eyes black with vengeance and lust. He tugged the filthy long johns down with a sneer and kept his eyes locked with Lister’s as he leaned forward, pressing the tip of his tongue against Lister’s erection. 

Lister gasped, shocked at the long forgotten sensation. He fought to keep his eyes from closing, wanting to watch his cock disappear into that gorgeous, sinful, hot mouth. He fought a losing battle, and though he felt Rimmer’s eyes watching him, he closed his own. It was becoming increasingly apparent that Rimmer possessed talents that Lister was not aware of. Had he, in fact, been told that he would be experiencing such talents firsthand, he would have not believed it. Deep in his soul he would have been contented with the news, had Rimmer wanted to do this, he would have been overjoyed, instead he could only think of him as the evil manifestation continued. The feel of the pierced tongue against his member made him feel lightheaded. He moved one hand to Rimmer’s head, disgruntled to find straight hair instead of tight curls. 

It was becoming hard to imagine his Rimmer before him. He was almost glad when Rimmer pulled away, laughing slowly and demonically. “Bastard,” Lister hissed, without conviction and tried to pull Rimmer closer. The low life form stubbornly refused to move. “Rimmer, come on man, enough games,” Lister panted, wanting an end to the teasing and his own sexual frustration.

Rimmer refused to budge, though his laughter grew in volume. Lister dropped his hands to his sides, tired of his useless urging. Further in the cargo bay he heard a noise and dropped his gaze to the nymph on his knees. A familiar high-pitched laugh echoed through the hold, causing Lister’s heart to pound furiously in his chest.

“You were bait,” he hissed quietly at the stocking-clad devil. “You smeg, you filthy, sexy, sexy, smeghead.” He stood frozen on the spot, as he heard the marching of three pairs of feet. In his daze, Rimmer took the opportunity to stand and force their lips together. Lister sighed into the kiss, wanting it to mean much more but knowing the kiss for what it was, a kiss of death. 

Rimmer broke the kiss and nuzzled Lister’s neck. “So pretty,” he purred against Lister’s ear. “Shame,” he added, caressing Lister’s cheek, before turning and joining the approaching men. 

Lister quickly struggled to pull his long johns up, covering his unabated erection. He managed to get the material waist high, when the lows appeared before him. Lister was gripped by fear and panic, but his libido overruled those trivial emotions. Instead he found himself watching Rimmer’s retreating posterior, until the man came to a halt in front of the low version of Lister. Low Lister slung his bazookoid over his shoulder and forcefully pulled Rimmer against him. Rimmer moaned in approval, his hands slithering down low Lister’s chest, to settle on the growing bulge inside the leather trousers. 

Lister gasped, turned on by the spectacle before him. He wanted those hands on him, not his demonic counterpart. Rimmer should be running his tongue along his neck, not the Brokeback Mountain reject’s neck. That murderous cowboy didn’t care about Rimmer, while he would worship him. He would give him pleasure every day they were together, no, every hour. Not one moment would be wasted; an ecstasy of pleasure awaited him, if only the pierced fool would notice. 

“I see you’ve been enjoying my boyfriend,” Low Lister hissed, threateningly. 

Lister held his hands up and stepped away. “Look, guy, I don’t want no trouble.” He took another step backwards, another step away from his own bazookoid. “That tramp came on to me!” as far as pleadings went, Lister thought, afterwards, he could have done better. He heard the sound of three bazookoid’s loading and a low hum of an engine coming from behind the enemy. 

Lister squeezed his eyes shut, awaiting his execution. He heard explosions and the sound of gunfire, all accompanied by the hum of the engine of motorbike. Lister opened his eyes. The lows had spread out, Kryten and Cat were no where to be seen. Lister lay on the floor some feet away from him, motionless. Rimmer remained at his side, helpless, vulnerable, and upset. Lister considered trying his luck, until Rimmer lifted his head and gave him such a look, if looks were able to kill he would be dead. 

The firing continued, bazookoid blasts mingled with sounds of a handgun. Lister wasn’t sure where to look, ignoring the distressed homicidal low. Rimmer slowly stood and picked up Lister’s bazookoid where it lay on the storage box. He loaded the chamber and smiled, evilly, as Lister heard the noise and looked startled and saddened. 

The explosion was loud and rocked the ship like an earthquake. Lister was surprised; you weren’t supposed to hear the one that kills you. He opened his eyes as storage boxes came crashing down, then out of the haze of smoke, he saw the headlight of a motorcycle. The roaring engine approached at speed, causing Lister to stagger back, unsure. 

The smoke caused his eyes to water, blurring his vision as the motorbike roared past and came to a quick halt with a 180 degree turn. “Get on, Davey-boy,” an accented voice encouraged. Lister rubbed his eyes, recognising the voice instantly.

“Ace?” he asked, excitedly, and then cleared his throat. He ran over to the motorcycle and got on behind the gold flight suit clad hero. He watched Ace draw his gun and point it towards the low Rimmer that had finally broken free from the collapsed boxes and was trying to recover the body of his deceased lover. 

“What are you doing, man?” Lister asked aghast, smacking Ace’s hand down. 

“I’m putting the poor blighter out of his misery. It’s a terrible thing to lose someone you love, Skipper.”

“Come on man, Ace, you’re better than that, don’t be like that.” Ace took a moment, before placing the gun in his holster.

“Hold on, baby, I’ll get you out of here.” Lister shivered and wrapped his arms around Ace’s waist. The motorbike roared to life and with it, the bazookoid fire started again. Ace rode towards the cargo lift and pulled onto the platform and pressed the green button. The platform began to rise, giving the enemy a moving target. Bazookoid blasts bombarded the lift until Ace pulled out his gun and with two single shots the bazookoid fire ceased. 

Lister looked down at the massacre; three of the four enemies were dead. The only survivor was doing his best impression of death, lied still, nestled in his lover’s arms. Lister’s heart ached for him, and he began to think that Ace had the right idea, putting the poor sod out of his misery. 

“I understand that you love him, Davey-boy,” Ace finally spoke, turning slightly to look at his companion. 

“No one deserves to die,” Lister replied with a shrug. 

“We do crazy things for the people we love,” Ace continued, flicking his blond hair out of his eyes. “I hope you can forgive me for this.” Lister opened his mouth to reply, but was silenced as Ace brought the butt of his gun down on Lister’s temple, knocking his companion out cold. “Sod the kippers; I’ll have you for breakfast.” 

 

Lister awoke to a pounding headache. He turned on his bunk, shivering as his naked back was exposed to the cool temperature of the room. He buried his head into his pillow as Starbug’s almost purring engine sounded like several drills inside his head. Lister froze in confusion, he was in Starbug? The thought of Starbug’s engine purring was as realistic as Rimmer actually getting laid, preposterous. 

Slowly his surroundings made less sense, the bedding was soft, the bed itself was comfortable and to his fascination and horror, there was room enough for two. He tried to remember the events that brought him to this conclusion. He remembered Rimmer being all over him like a bad rash, no, that wasn’t quite right. It had been a low version of Rimmer and he had been baited, reeled in and almost killed. 

He tried to remember how he escaped from death, when he felt the bed dip behind him. His heart leapt into his throat, as a strong hand caressed his flank and came to rest on the curve of his hip. He feigned rigor mortis to dispel interest, but soft lips pressed against his ear despite his best efforts.

“I know you’re awake, Davey-boy,” Ace whispered into his ear, and then pressed his own muscular flight suit-clad body against Lister’s back. 

“What are you doing, man?” Lister’s squeaked, annoyed at himself for his response. 

“I’m giving us what we both want.” Ace pulled off the single sheet covering Lister’s body and pulled the man onto his back. Effortlessly, he took hold of Lister’s failing arms and pinned them to the bed, before leaning down and kissing those tempting lips. 

“Ace!” Lister panted, unsure of what he wanted as Ace kissed down his neck. “Where are my clothes?” he finally asked, cursing himself for being cowardly. Ace rolled his eyes and looked him in the eye.

“Unsightly things, I threw them out of the airlock.” Lister opened his mouth to protest, but his protestations were smothered by Ace’s hand. “Besides, you won’t be needing any clothes,” Ace wriggled his eyebrows suggestively, while Lister looked at him, offended. “Relax, and enjoy,” Ace coaxed, removing his hand. Lister thought up a thousand invectives, but none were forthcoming as, once again, a warm mouth enclosed over the head of his penis. 

Instinctively, Lister spread his legs, realising too late, how wanton he must look. His back arched in desperation, his body searching for that euphoric high that he had been so long without. Ace rewarded his behaviour, with three broad swipes of his tongue against the underside of Lister’s cock, and then pulled back. 

“Oh, you smeg,” Lister complained, as Ace kissed and licked his way up Lister’s torso, his flight suit gliding easily along Lister’s perspiring flesh.

“Don’t want you to cum too soon,” Ace replied to the criticism and placed a quick kiss on Lister’s parted lips. “I have so much more planned for you.” Lister trembled at the possibilities, before his lust sobered enough to allow him to think. 

“Where are the others?” Ace frowned. “Where’s Red Dwarf?” Lister persisted. 

“No need to worry your pretty little head about it. You’re safe with me.”

“Where’s Rimmer?” Lister demanded, unnerved by his own train of thought. 

“That cretin? The man’s a parasite; it’ll do you good being away from him. You’ll never have to see him again.” Lister sat up and moved back against the bunk, away from Ace.

“Where am I? What have you done?” Lister demanded, a touch of panic resounding in his voice. 

“Relax, Davey-boy,” Ace coaxed, stroking Lister’s ankle, comfortingly. “I did this for us. Now we can be together, just like you wanted.” Realisation dawned with the subtly of a supernova. The blinding truth contrasted to the mindless passing grey thought in his mind. 

“That’s not what I wanted,” Lister protested, shaking his head. “I wanted Rimmer to be more like you. I wasn’t thinking about you, man.” Lister was surprised by the hard backhand slap he received and glared accusingly at Ace. 

“It’s always about you!” Ace shouted, raising his hand, as if to strike once more. Lister flinched, bringing his knees up and hugging them to his chest. He had seen Rimmer at his lowest. A rancid, perverted, murderous whore, with an unnatural obsession with ladies undergarments, and yet nothing compared to the anger and hideousness of the real monster before him. 

“I don’t want to be like this,” Ace sighed, flicking his hair out of his eyes and flashed a charming smile. Lister grimaced, seeing the snake that Rimmer had seen. “I’m going to take a shower, then we’ll talk,” Ace nodded to himself, cementing the fact that there would not be an equal relationship between them. 

Standing from the bunk, Ace leaned forward, causing Lister to flinch, before pressing a kiss to the reddened cheek. “I’m sorry, old love,” Ace muttered, caressing the injured cheek, before straightening and walking over to what Lister assumed was the shower. 

Lister remained in the foetal position until he heard the water running. Slowly he released his knees and rolled out of the bunk, keeping his eyes locked on the shower room door. His cheek stung and the cold air felt like thousands of tiny pin pricks on his naked flesh. 

“Dave!” Ace called. Lister turned towards the door, panicked. It was too soon, he hadn’t even devised a plan, and he didn’t even know where he was. “Dave!” Ace called again, his voice becoming closer. Stuck with the decision of fight or flight, Lister chose the latter and ran to the nearest door. Pressing the open switch, Lister slid inside, his hand catching on the enter button, before he hid inside, moving into the corner.

“Airlock secure, doors opening.” The computer’s voice resounded in the small hold. Realising his mistake, Lister flung himself at the door, trying desperately to get back inside. He stabbed at the keypad on the side of the door and tested his palm print to no avail. 

Pressed against the door, he heard Ace shouting in alarm, and then the figure was by the door, staring at him in panic. Lister banged on the small window, shrugging wildly and pointing to the controls, while Ace jabbed buttons. Behind him, Lister heard the pressure lock release and pounded on the door furiously. Ace glanced at him, sweat dripping from his brow as he tried desperately to override the airlock controls. Lister looked for something to hold on to and settled for the large door handle, he banged on the window fruitlessly as the doors opened behind him. 

“Skipper!” Ace screamed, neglecting the keypad and forcefully pulled on the door. “No, I’ll save you, David, I’ll save you!” Lister could only stare back, with tears streaming down his cheeks. He shook his head and pressed his hand against the window, as if he could touch Ace’s cheek.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, with his final breath, his lungs starved of oxygen. He released the door and allowed the empty space to take him. He faintly saw Ace desperately beating at the door and wailing like a banshee, before his vision faded to black. 

 

Everything hurt, the stench of death clung to his nostrils, reminding him of rotting cabbage and half eaten kebabs. He felt weightless and bruised, yet strangely alive. Opening his eyes slowly, a flickering neon sign swarm into his vision. He focused on the sign, looking for words that were not there. Instead the image flicked between a pair of red legs, to a crude image of a pair of open red legs. 

Lister groaned, clutching his head and turned away. His hair felt unnatural beneath his slightly numb fingertips but he ignored it and tried to stand. The floor was unstable, shifting under his hands as he applied pressure to the uneven surface. He stared at the black, lumpy ground and brushed his hands against the plastic surface. 

A car alarm sounded in the distance, the sound impacting on Lister’s brain like a mallet. He lost his balance and rolled down the plastic slanting floor, coming to a halt on even solid ground. The alarm silenced, but a woman’s voice continued to scream, as dogs barked uncontrollably, alerted by the car alarm. 

Lister finally managed to stand and cast an awkward glance at the mountain of garbage bags that had been his bed. Pulling his jacket around him, he was stunned to feel fur rather than worn leather. He looked down, surprised to see the neon light reflected on his polished, flat shoes. An uneasy feeling swelled inside the pit of his stomach, as he placed his hands onto his head feeling long straight hair. 

“Oh smeg,” he gulped and staggered out of the alley, into the street. The town was in a shambles, the local shops had been ransacked, and litter clogged the road and pavements. The light posts no longer provided light to the grimy street. The only operable venues in the local vicinity were whore houses, strip clubs and a bookies. 

Lister decided it was best to move on, the streets seemed somewhat deserted but he did not know how long they would remain so. Instead, he walked off purposely, trying to remain calm and aloof, as to not bring any unwanted attention to himself. 

Lister grumbled to himself as he walked the backstreets out of town. He was tired, hungry and dying for a cigarette when he found a lone spluttering lamp post, the orange bulb flickering like a candle in the wind. Standing beneath the cold metal, Lister fished inside his pocket, trying to suppress his glee as his hand brushed a packet of cigarettes and a lighter. 

He quickly pulled the items from his pocket and fumbled with the packet. His hands shook in the cold night air but he persevered, pulling a cigarette from the packet and placing it between his chattering teeth. He bowed over to ignite it and sucked in the nicotine, like a man starved of oxygen. 

His nerves were steadily calming and he found he was able to look around without arousing suspicion. He hadn’t gotten very far, he noticed, judging from the red neon light shining in the distance. In fact, he had walked purposefully into the foul underbelly of the town’s night life. 

He decided to move to a less noticeable position and hid around the corner among the shadows. A panted moan caught his attention and he looked across the street to the mouth of an alley. A well suited business man, stood, his back ramrod straight as a figure sat before him on their knees. The man’s suit trousers were around his knees, as well as pristine white briefs. Lister did not need to investigate further, his imagination made up the rest. 

He intended to give the couple some privacy when a shock of white blond hair caught his attention. The man was losing his composure and fell against the wall in ecstasy, revealing the man on his knees. Lister choked on a gasp, startled to see Rimmer on the dirty ground, degrading himself. He felt his cock stir with interest and tried to look away. That man in the tight jeans and torn T-shirt was not Rimmer; it was Billy Doyle, his lowlife half brother. He tried to remind himself of that as he watched Rimmer’s, no, Billy’s mouth stretch wide, taking the strangers cock in his mouth. 

Lister’s trousers were becoming uncomfortably tight. He tried shifting from foot to foot to no avail. He tried to shift his attention further down the street, focusing on the passing headlights reflected in the glass. He couldn’t be too far from a main road and back to civilisation. A civilisation that had left him unconscious among garbage bags and the scrawny filthy poverty stricken drunkards and whores. 

A resounded slap echoed from the alley, Lister quickly turned his attention back to the duo. Billy was on his knees, pressing a hand to a reddening cheek while the costumer hastily pulled up his underwear and trousers. 

“You disgusting, filthy, mindless whore!” The man hissed and than spat on Billy’s face. 

“You owe me,” Billy muttered, bravely eyeing the man before him. 

“You slut!” the man growled, raising his arm again. Billy expected the impact and was shocked when it did not come. 

Lister grabbed hold of the man’s arm, disgusted by the spectacle. He had been recently smacked around himself and refused to see it happen to someone else. The result had been deadly for him, well he assumed so, he wasn’t sure what was happening, but he knew right from wrong and what he was seeing was wrong. 

“I believe you owe this gentleman some money,” Lister spoke calmly, tightening his grip on the man’s arm. 

“You will pay for this!” The man hissed, turning his venomous expression on Lister, before freezing in shock. “Voter-Colonel, forgive me, I did not realise.” 

“Pay the man for services rendered and apologise for being such a smeg.” Lister instructed, releasing the man’s arm. The man quickly reached into his pocket, blindly passing Billy some notes. He wrestled his handkerchief from his top pocket and carefully dabbed away his spittle from the Billy’s cheek and helped him to his feet.

“I am terribly sorry for the misunderstanding, Voter-Colonel.” 

“Don’t apologise to me,” Lister shook his head and pointed to his rakishly thin half brother. “Apologise to him.” 

It took the man a great deal of effort to meet Billy’s eyes. “I apologise for my behaviour,” he began, unconvincingly. “It will never happen again, sir.” Billy had never heard an apology sound so poisonous before, he waved the man away, unconcerned with his lies. The man looked towards Lister, silently pleading to leave and ran away as the Voter-Colonel gave his consent.

“You had no business doing that!” Billy complained, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Hey now, I helped you, so drop the attitude, yeah?” 

“Get out of here before someone sees you,” Billy dismissed him, waving him away like an annoying fly. 

“That’s it then? I save you and you just ignore me, wave me off like a pest. Thanks a lot, man.” Billy pointedly ignored him, folding his arms and turning his back. “A thank you would have been nice, though I don’t suppose a tramp like you would have any decency.”

Predictably, Billy turned around and stormed up to him with the fires of hell burning in his eyes. “I never asked you to come here, I didn’t ask for your help. I don’t interfere in your life, I’d prefer it if you didn’t interfere in mine.” Lister stood his ground, entranced by Billy’s passion. Billy misunderstood Lister’s cold silence and hung his head. “You’ve come to hand me in; get rid of the black sheep of the Doyle family.”

“I have not, don’t be so soft,” Lister dismissed Billy’s accusations.

“What is it you want then? You never get something for nothing.” Billy replied, pessimistically. 

“Can a man not simply look out for his brother?”

“A man could,” Billy agreed, stepping closer. “But you can’t. I’ve seen the way you look at me, Sebastian.” Lister shivered as Billy stepped closer using a soft breathy voice. “You looked at me like no brother should.” Lister couldn’t find the words to reply, that voice was having too much of an effect on him. “You used to undress me with your eyes,” Billy whispered into his ear. “And it turned me on,” Billy finished with a moan.

Lister closed the distance between them, forcing his lips against Billy’s. His body demanded pleasure, as he pulled his brother against him. A voice in the back of his mind reminded him that the act was wrong and unlawful. The two things that made the whole ordeal arousing. Lister grabbed hold of Billy’s hand and pressed it against his crotch, moaning into his brother’s mouth, as he began to rub him.

“Sebastian, so hot for me, Lister.” Lister was too far gone to notice the slip in the names. He reached his hand behind Billy’s head, fisting the wild white blond hair and pulled it back, exposing his long pale throat. “Lister, lights, Lister, Lister, you’re like a rabbit on Viagra. Lister, Sebastian, Lister.” Lister pulled back, looking confused at Billy.

“You what?”

“I said lights,” Billy pointed behind Lister’s shoulder. Lister turned just in time to see the headlights heading straight for him. 

Lister awoke in his bunk, knocking his half-full can of lager off the edge and onto the floor. Rimmer stood before him, his eyes narrowed, nostrils flared, arms folded and his lips drawn into a thin line.

“What do you want?” Lister moaned, falling onto his back.

“An apology would be nice, miladdo.”

“What have I done now, Rimmer?” 

“You’ve kept me awake all night. I thought you would drill a hole in your bunk the way you were going at it.”

“Jack hammer, was I?” Lister laughed, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He caught Rimmer’s shocked expression, before his companion schooled his features. 

“I’d rather not talk about your sexual prowess or lack thereof. Kindly go to sleep, some of us have to get up early.” Lister sighed into his pillow and turned onto his stomach. 

“Fine, you’re not much entertainment anyway. Lights!” The room was bathed in darkness once more and Lister curled in his bunk, burying his face in his pillow. Sleep was fast approaching and with it came a psychotic hologram wearing a gingham dress and an evil hand-puppet that had very naughty thoughts.


End file.
